White Light
by Annie-chan
Summary: Marv wakes up in a strange place after his execution, and the person who greets him is the man he most expected and least wanted to see. Things aren't exactly how they seem, however...


**Author's Notes:** Okay. So. My first _Sin __City_ fanfic. I recently stumbled across information on Kevin, and discovered that he's the kind of slippery, shadowy, freakish lunatic that I'm drawn to (in fiction, not real life). So, I decided to rent the movie. Lord Almighty, he's creepy.

Anyway, I read that Frank Miller characterizes Kevin and Miho as Basin City's supernatural residents. Called them demons, I believe. I love supernatural stuff, so that got the wheels in my head turning. I don't know if Miller meant his remark to be taken literally or not, but a fic idea where it _is_ literally true wormed its way into my head. If it was in fact a metaphor, forgive me. This is fanfiction, so I can do whatever I want. Nyah.

Like I said, this is my first foray into the _Sin __City_ fandom. I've only seen the movie, so if there are any inaccuracies or OOC-ness, I'm sorry. I'll try to keep it true to what little I've seen. Since I (I believe) have seen pretty much all of Kevin's involvement in the story, though, I think I know enough to write this. Please be nice if I make any glaring mistakes.

_Sin __City_ is property of Frank Miller and Dark Horse, as well as any other entities holding copyright. I'm just borrowing the characters for a bit to satisfy my chatty Muse.

**White Light  
**By Annie-chan

The first thing I realize as I slowly come to is the pain is gone. The searing, sizzling pain of the electric chair is only a memory, and the taste of blood no longer fills my mouth. I'm lying on my back, and my body feels well and whole.

I guess I must be dead now.

I couldn't say what I'm lying on. I can't tell if it's hard or soft, rough or smooth. Hell, it feels like I'm lying on nothing, floating in midair. Strange…

I open my eyes, but slam them shut again. All I could see was white, this horribly bright, blinding field of white. Pain shot through my eyes the split second I had them open, and now they're throbbing in their sockets. It seems you can still feel pain when you're dead.

Christ, of course you can feel pain. Hell's only purpose is to cause pain to those who land in it, and there's no other place I figure I could possibly go.

I crack my eyelids open, looking out into the piercing light. I though maybe it was just an illusion, my eyes shocked by the light after God knows how long they'd been closed. No shapes materialize out of the blur, though. It seems that the field of white is just that, a field of white. Either there's nothing around me, or the light is too bright for me to see anything else.

After a moment, my eyes get used to it, and I can open them completely. I look around slowly, searching for anything that might serve as a place marker. There's nothing, though. Absolutely nothing to be seen. I turn in a full circle, looking all around me. The same white light greets me when I look up above me, and even when I look down at the ground. It's like I'm suspended in empty space.

A faint, wavering memory makes its way to my attention. Something that bastard cardinal said to me eighteen months ago.

_The eating filled him with a white light…_

Shit, I don't want to think about that. The last thing I need on my mind is that freak Kevin.

I stand. Just where the fuck am I? This isn't Hell, is it? It has to be; where else would I end up? This doesn't look like any account of Hell I ever heard, though.

They do say that the Devil has an infinite variety of punishments for his subjects. Maybe this is one of them. I don't know what the purpose of this punishment would be, though. Solitude? Not much of a punishment. I've been solitary most of my life. Getting it in Hell wouldn't be much of a change.

I'm about to move forward, searching for something, anything, in this unrelenting white. But that's when I hear it—

"Hello, Marv."

The voice, quiet though it is, hits my ears like a gunshot in the silence. I whip around, already feeling the adrenaline pump through my veins. There was no one—_nothing_—around me. I made sure of it. But now, as I whirl around, I find that I'm not alone after all.

A small figure greets my eyes. He's sitting on nothing, elevated up several feet as if he were on the top of some wall above me. One knee is bent up, his foot resting on whatever invisible platform he's on, his other leg dangling over the side. He's leaning back with one arm resting atop his bent knee, the other braced behind him. He's the perfect picture of nonchalance.

He's not wearing any glasses, and he's dressed all in simple, black clothing. I almost don't recognize him without the night shadows obscuring his features, but I see the half smile, the maddeningly serene twinkle in his eyes. It's him. That slippery, hopping bastard that killed my Goldie.

I bristle without a thought. "_You_…"

He tilts his head slightly, as if casually agreeing with something. "Me."

Fuck, is my punishment spending eternity with _him_? I'll take _anything_ but that.

"I knew I'd see you here, you little shit," I growl at him, bearing my teeth like the wolf he kept as a pet. "I just didn't expect it to be so goddamn soon."

"Oh, I knew you'd see me here, too," he replies, his smile widening a bit. "It's just not in the capacity that you expected, my friend."

God, his voice. Cardinal Roark was right. His voice was that of an angel, the star performer in God's personal choir. I've never heard anyone, male or female, with such a voice. If he took the time to sing, he could make even the hardest heart break with emotion.

I stare dumbly at him for a few moments, caught off guard by the sheer melodic quality of his words. The back of my mind swears loudly at me. I can't believe I'm such a pansy as to be made speechless by a plain, meaningless sentence uttered by some freak serial killer.

"I suppose you're wondering what I mean," he says after several minutes of silence.

I nod slowly. Damn it, Marv, get a hold of yourself!

"It's simple, really," Kevin continues, sitting up a little straighter. "You expected to find me as another inmate, another poor soul condemned for eternity to the torments of Satan's domain. You didn't expect to instead find me as a _resident_ of said domain."

"What?" He couldn't have said what I thought he said. I must be getting confused again. Damn, I thought I'd at least be rid of _that_ little problem once I was dead…

"You heard me," he says, his smile taking on an almost sinister look. "This is where I was born. I work here. I _belong_ here." Okay, now that smile is getting really creepy. "Killing me was no punishment, Marv. You just sent me home."

All I can do is keep staring at him. Shit…I'm _not_ confused, am I?

"Well, I can't really say you killed _me_," he continues. "You killed the mortal body I was born into, but that's all."

"What are you, some kind of demon?!" I suddenly sputter, finally getting my voice back. Kind of a stupid question, but it's all I could think of right now.

"Yes," he answers. That's it. No explanation or nothing.

"So, what were you doing in Sin City?" I demand, finding it easier to talk as the minutes pass. "Doesn't it already have enough problems?"

"Oh yes, it has plenty of problems," he nods, shifting position so he's sitting cross-legged, resting his chin in one palm. "I wouldn't say it has _enough_, though. A city can never have enough troubles."

"You're sick, you know that?"

"I'm not, actually. I'm merely following my nature."

"Bastard."

Kevin giggles. His laugh isn't like any other laugh I've ever heard. It sounds innocent enough on the surface, but underneath, there's something very, very wrong about it. A shiver travels up my spine in spite of myself.

"I am a being charged with giving weight to the 'evil' side of the scales that make up this Universe," he says after his sniggering dies down. "We can't very well do that if we're always confined to the Otherworld, and it's unwise to dwell in the mortal world as our normal selves. People are bound to discover what we really are sooner or later, and that would be nothing but a hindrance. So, every so often, we're born into human bodies to human parents, and we carry out our life's work that way. A wolf in sheep's clothing, so to speak. I've spent a human's life on Earth a few times before this last one, each one lived in varying degrees of 'depravity'. I have noticed that I've had a propensity for eating human flesh in just about every one of them, though. Can't say why."

"Shut up," I growl. "I didn't come here just to hear you talk about yourself."

"Oh?" he says, raising an eyebrow. "And you think _you're_ any more interesting to listen to? You're always whining about how much of a loser you are, about how your ugly mug makes everyone steer clear of you. And then the last several days of your life, it was nothing but GOLDIEGOLDIEGOLDIEGOLDIEGOLDIE."

"Shut up!" I snarl this time. "Say her name one more time, and I'll rip your goddamn head off again!"

"You couldn't do that even if you tried," he sneers, his expression taking on a thoroughly nasty appearance. "Don't think I'll be as easy to subdue now as I was before you killed me. I'll slice you into bloody pieces if you so much as touch me." He holds a hand up in front of his face, his fingers bent into claws, as if to emphasize his point. His nails are even longer than I remember them, and still sharp as knives. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that he's fully capable of carrying out his threat.

"You're pathetic," he continues. "You threw your life away for a woman you barely even know, just because she showed you a little kindness. And it wasn't even genuine kindness, at that."

"What do _you_ know?" I growl, feeling my hackles rise with every word he says. "Don't take me for an idiot, you asshole. I know real kindness with I see it."

"Apparently, you don't," he snaps back, almost before I finish my sentence. "She was nothing but a hypocrite, a shameless liar. She wouldn't have given you even the time of day if she hadn't known I was coming for her. She didn't want you, you moron, she wanted the protection you'd give her. Once the sun was up, she'd be off and you'd never see her again." He smiles again, a thoroughly sadistic sparkle in his eyes. "For all you know, Wendy was 'the nice one'."

"Keep talking, and I'll tear your fucking tongue out!" I rage, unable to listen to this. His beautiful voice had warped, becoming something terrible. Every word was like a spike being driven through my skull. He was using its stunning potency as a weapon, and I had no doubt that it would reduce most people to tears just by listening to it. He was grinning as he did it, too. The sick freak was enjoying this.

"Can't bear to hear the painful truth, huh?" he all but laughs. "Don't you get it? She was a _whore_, a fucking call-girl. Her whole job was to give men the illusion that they were wanted. She knew how to make losers like you feel loved, if only for a few hours, and by God, she pulled every rabbit out of the hat for you. She was desperate. The more she buttered you up, the more willing you'd be to protect her. Simple. Nothing more." He flicks a stray wisp of hair out of his eyes. "And you couldn't even do that for her. You were so shit-faced drunk, there was no way you could have. She was right next to you, Marv, _right next to you_ when I killed her. Hell, I could have raped her before killing her, and you _still_ wouldn't have known."

My eyes widen. Jesus Christ, he didn't—

"No, I didn't rape her," he says, as if reading my thoughts. His nose wrinkles as he speaks, as if he finds the very idea to be distasteful.

I don't say anything. I just stand here, my hands curled into fists. I'm getting so sick of hearing him speak. His voice had all but bewitched me at first, but now it only disgusts me. I'm becoming more and more sure that my punishment _is_ an eternity with him, and I feel my anger rising at the thought. I deserve Hell, I know, but _Kevin_? That's just too much!

Kevin unbends his knees and pushes off from his invisible ledge. His feet make no sound as they hit was I assume is the floor. I'm towering over him now, his small frame looking puny next to my hulking one. I could squash him like a bug if I wanted to. That's what it seems like, anyway. I know better, though.

"You want to know why you're in Hell, Marv?" he asks, his voice softer now. I could almost call it beautiful again, if I wasn't so sickened by it.

"What kind of dumb question is that?" I ask back. I know he's not stupid, so why is he asking me such a stupid question?

"It's not a dumb question," he says, giving me a reproachful look. "You're not an evil man, Marv, you just did some pretty evil things from time to time. Such is not usually enough to land you in the Abyss. It's surely not behavior worthy of Heaven, but not deserving of Hell, either."

"You're not making any sense," I snort. Just like his excuses for his little cannibalism habit.

He sighs, and begins circling me slowly, his arms crossed in front of him. "Think about it, Marv. You're not stupid, or at least I don't think you are. The way you went about ratting me out was pretty damn stupid, though. You killed a lot of people, you know, most of them unnecessarily. Remember that priest you made confession to? All he did was ask you a question—a perfectly valid question at that—and you killed him. Maybe he did insult your precious Goldie, but that's hardly enough to warrant shooting him like you did."

"Most of them had it coming," I say in my defense. "They were drug dealers, hit men, wife beaters, rapists, you name it. If it wasn't me who killed them, someone else would have done it eventually. The fuckers deserved it, so I gave it to them."

"Most of the people you sought information from were criminals, yes," Kevin nodded, conceding to my point. "That's the kind of neighborhood you concentrated your search in, after all. A lot of the people who had information that could lead you to a murderer were predators themselves. But," now he's looking me straight in the eyes, "their crimes and exploits had nothing to do with you. _Nothing_, Marv. You had no _business_ killing them. If nothing else, you took revenge _away_ from people much more deserving to give those lowlifes their tickets to Hell." He's stopped circling me, and is now standing right in front of me again. "That's why you're in Hell. It's your damned pride that's landed you here. Many lives were needlessly lost because of your reckless little crusade. You were selfish, Marv, insanely selfish, and _that's_ why you have the privilege of starting your afterlife with _me_ by your side."

Pride. The deadliest of the Deadly Sins. Or at least that's what I've been told…

"And on top of that," he continues, "your affinity for torture reared its ugly head. You couldn't just kill the poor bastards, could you? You had to make them suffer before they died, so 'Hell would seem like Heaven,' or some bullshit like that. The priest was one of the lucky ones." He tilts his head, an almost amused glint in his eyes now. "And when it came to me and the cardinal, you just couldn't hold back, could you? Your 'revenge' on me was rather crude, but you really outdid yourself with Roark. I didn't know humans were capable of such excessive sadism. Or, at least, you hadn't given me any signs before then that you could be _that_ cruel." His eyes narrow, a look of contempt spreading over his features. "Pride again. Foolish, self-serving pride. You tell yourself you're giving people what they deserve, but you're no better than those you're 'punishing.' No worse, perhaps, but no better."

He turns away, putting his back to me. He's stopped talking, letting silence reign once more. After his endless chattering, the silence is almost deafening. I'm suddenly uncomfortable, and I cast around for something to fill the void up. He mentioned Cardinal Roark…

"So, was it your mission in life to corrupt the cardinal?" I ask. Another dumb question, but I have to admit, I'm a little curious. Bringing down a holy man would be something a creature like him would consider fun.

"Oh, no," he smiles, looking back at me. "The cardinal was well on his way to perdition long before he met me. You should know that, considering what family he hailed from." He turns to face me fully again. "No, Cardinal Roark was just a small stroke of luck for me. He provided me with a refuge to hide in, a safety net against anyone looking for the perpetrator of my 'crimes'. Not that anyone would be looking for a whore-killer." Here he shoots me a wry look, as if to say _until you came along_.

"You're saying it was Roark's idea to start eating people along with you?" I raise my eyebrow. I know the Roark family is pretty fucked up, but I don't think even _they_ would look at eating human flesh as a good thing to do.

"Somewhat," he answers, giving a little shrug. "I can't say I had no influence in his decision, what with my saying it 'filled me with light' and whatnot. When he asked to join in, though, I have to admit I was a bit surprised. It made me wonder just how low I could get him to go. I mean, really, eating one's own kind? How revolting!" He giggles again, as if he just said something funny.

I sigh and lower my head. Just go away, Kevin. I don't want to see, hear, or even think of you anymore…

He looks at his watch as his giggling dies down. "Oh dear, it's time for you to get checked in. I guess we have to say goodbye now."

Thank God.

He turns away again, and the light that's been surrounding us begins to fade. I blink, finding myself on a riverbank. Or at least I think it's a river. It's so wide that I can barely see the opposite shore. It's either a very wide river or a large lake.

The landscape around me is dead. The trees are nothing but skeletons, their leafless branches swaying lifelessly, a few of the more brittle ones hanging toward the ground, only a thin string of bark keeping them from falling. The ground is a dull brown, no grass anywhere to be seen. Rocks push up through the dirt, and clouds of dust sweep across the land in the dry breeze.

The river (lake?) doesn't look any more cheerful. The water reflects the overcast sky, looking grey and dead. The occasional shallow wave splashes up against the rocky shore, but other than that, it's unnaturally calm.

I shiver. The whole place gives me a bad feeling, a feeling of emptiness, of despair. This looks more like the Hell I've been told about.

"You have to go over there," Kevin says, startling me. I had almost forgotten he was there as I took in the gloomy scenery.

I look at him. He's looking at me over his shoulder, and I can see he is pointing over toward the water's edge at a group of people that I hadn't noticed was there. They're far enough away that they hadn't caught my eyes as I glanced quickly around.

There's a boat pulled up to shore near the small knot of people. There are other people sitting in it, and I see those on shore crossing a gangplank over to it, one by one. A figure is standing where the plank reaches land, holding what looks like a clipboard. He's tall and shrouded completely in black. I can't make out any features except for his thin, almost skeletal hands. As each person crosses over to the waiting boat, he checks something off on his clipboard. Even from this distance, I can see the despondent looks on everyone's faces. They look like people who have had the hope sucked right out of them, or maybe people who had long since resigned themselves to a horrible fate.

A chill runs up my spine as I observe the scene. Charon ferrying the souls of the damned across the River Styx. That must be what I'm seeing. What else could it possibly be?

"You have to go over there, Marv," Kevin says again. "Your name is on his list, and he'll be just a little upset if you're not there once he's ready to go."

I swallow the lump in my throat I hadn't even realized was there. I take one step forward, feeling reluctance weighing down every limb. _This is it…_

"Don't worry," he says, and I can hear the slight smile in his voice. "Once your tenure here is up, you'll be free to go wherever you wish. Perhaps even to see that whore you've become so infatuated with."

I look at him, my eyes wide. Not so much because of the insult leveled at Goldie, but because of what he said just before that. My _tenure_ here? Was he saying this was all _temporary_?

"Bye, Marv," he smiles, raising a hand in farewell. "I'm sure we'll find ourselves in each other's company quite often from here on out."

He begins to fade, disappearing from view. He's leaving…

"Wait!" I say, shouting the word without meaning to. I step toward him, a hand outstretched as if to grab his arm. A sudden panic has come over me. I don't want him to leave, not just yet. I just remembered that I still have something to ask him.

He stops, halting his exit, yet I can still faintly see through him, as if he were half at his destination and half here. He's turned away from me, and I can't see his expression, but I can tell that he's waiting for me to speak.

"How did you do it?" I ask. "How did you kill her? There wasn't a mark on her when I woke up. Not a scratch, not a single bruise. It's like you didn't even touch her." I honestly can't tell why I asked the question. Part of me really doesn't want to know, and yet I can't help asking.

He pauses for a moment, as if considering whether to answer or not.

"Cyanide," he says after a moment of silence. "I soaked a rag with the stuff and placed it over her mouth and nose. If it's any consolation for you, she didn't even wake up completely before she died. She couldn't have been afraid, because she didn't even know what happened."

I just stare at him, having no response. Part of me is relieved, as now I know that she didn't suffer as she died. Another part of me, though, is throbbing with dull anger. He hadn't given her a chance to fight back, or even struggle. The son of a bitch had shot her in the back, so to speak.

"See you later, Marv," he says, raising his hand again. This time I let him go, and he fades completely from view, leaving me to my fate.

* * *

Finally, what seems like hours later, I'm finished with my "checking in". Now I'm being taken somewhere, presumably wherever I'll "live" during my stay here.

"Hey," I say to the guy leading me, who hasn't said a word since I first saw him. "I gotta question."

"Shoot," he says, not looking back at me.

"Just something I heard when I first got here. Is it true that souls are only in Hell temporarily?"

He stops and finally turns around. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Like I said, I just heard it from someone when I first got here."

He looks at me for a moment before answering. "Yes," he finally says. "It is only temporary. The length of time you're kept here and the severity of your punishment are determined by what kind of sins landed you here, and how grave they were. After you're determined to have paid enough for your transgressions, you're let free to go wherever you will."

"Like where?"

"Oh, there are lots of possible destinations. It'd take too long to name them all. Heaven and Hell aren't the _only_ places outside the Material Realm."

"And just how long am I going to be spending here?"

"That, I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't need to know."

"Hmph…"

He turns away from me again and resumes walking.

"So, Hell is more like an afterlife prison than an eternal abode of the damned," I say.

"That is correct," he nods, "only the sentences tend to be much longer than in earthly prisons, and we haven't fallen for that 'humane treatment' bullshit. Punishment is punishment. You can't do it 'humanely' and still get the point across."

I don't answer to that. There really isn't any kind of answer to give.

"Ah, here we are," he says after a long stretch of silence. "Here's where I'm supposed to hand you off."

I look around. I don't know how he could possibly know that. There are no landmarks or anything to suggest where we are. Just some wide, barren plain as far as the eye can see. I thought I heard someone say that this was a sort of "in-between" for the various parts of Hell, someplace to pass through from one area to another. How anyone can find a specific point in this wasteland is beyond me.

"I actually feel sorry for you," the demon says, giving me a strange look. "Caoimhin specifically requested to be your, er, 'caretaker' during your stay here. He must have some kind of personal interest in you. Believe me when I say that catching _his_ attention is _never_ a good thing."

_Caoimhin_? That sounds suspiciously like—

"Hello, Marv."

Oh…fuck.

**End**

**Author's Notes:** Well, what do you think? Does it fit in well with the _Sin __City_ fandom, or am I just making a fool out of myself?

I realize that Kevin talks a _lot_ in this fic. I find it kind of funny, seeing how he's completely mute in the comics and the movie. I hope that his chattiness didn't get tiresome, and that his reasoning why Marv landed in Hell isn't too flimsy. As for his personality, I figured he was more or less a blank slate. He doesn't say anything in canon, and the only insight we got was what Cardinal Roark said about him, so we can only guess what he's thinking and how he views the world. Perhaps his way of speaking in this fic is a bit on the formal side, but that just seemed to fit with my idea of him. Hope no one minds.

Also, I may have been a little too hard on Goldie and Marv. Keep in mind, though, that it's Kevin speaking. I doubt he views them as sympathetically as the audience does. Besides, he's a demon. It's his job to be mean.

Anyway, leave a review and tell me what you think. It's been a while since I've forayed into a new fandom, and I'd like to hear how you think I did. I may write other _Sin __City_ fics in the future, but that's still undecided right now. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

P.S. "Caoimhin" is the original Irish form of "Kevin". Marv's "caretaker" is indeed our slippery little cannibal. I doubt anyone needed me to explain, but I thought I'd say just for the heck of it.


End file.
